Song | Sanities |
Artist | John Cale |
Album | Music for a New Society |
作词 : Cale | |
She was so afraid | |
Since her mother, white with time, | |
Told her | |
She was a failure. | |
She was so ashamed | |
Of everything she said | |
And everything she did | |
For her mother, white with time. | |
Everything around her mother | |
White with time. | |
And dirty. | |
Her mother was greedy with dirt. | |
Greedy. | |
Then she heard choirs of angels, | |
Singing choirs of angels, | |
Greedy angels, | |
Spitting glory on her failure. | |
That stardust of failure, | |
As if it was medicine | |
That didn't work, | |
Anyway. | |
Anyway | |
The windows they were closed | |
And the midwives had locked their doors. | |
They didn't understand. | |
And after all what was there to understand? | |
But the angels, sheer choirs of angels, | |
In a friendship. | |
No, more than a friendship, | |
It was a marriage, a marriage made in the grave. | |
In shivering night, | |
The searching of the river continued. | |
The bullet of searchlight, | |
That searchlight found her so cockleshell and sure, | |
Sick and tired of what she saw, | |
But cockleshell and sure. | |
Sure of what the world had offered a tired soul. | |
From Istanbul to Madrid, | |
From Reykjavik, to Bonn, | |
To Leipzig, to Leningrad, | |
To Shanghai, Pnonm Penh, | |
All so that it would be a stronger world | |
A strong though loving world to die in. |
zuò cí : Cale | |
She was so afraid | |
Since her mother, white with time, | |
Told her | |
She was a failure. | |
She was so ashamed | |
Of everything she said | |
And everything she did | |
For her mother, white with time. | |
Everything around her mother | |
White with time. | |
And dirty. | |
Her mother was greedy with dirt. | |
Greedy. | |
Then she heard choirs of angels, | |
Singing choirs of angels, | |
Greedy angels, | |
Spitting glory on her failure. | |
That stardust of failure, | |
As if it was medicine | |
That didn' t work, | |
Anyway. | |
Anyway | |
The windows they were closed | |
And the midwives had locked their doors. | |
They didn' t understand. | |
And after all what was there to understand? | |
But the angels, sheer choirs of angels, | |
In a friendship. | |
No, more than a friendship, | |
It was a marriage, a marriage made in the grave. | |
In shivering night, | |
The searching of the river continued. | |
The bullet of searchlight, | |
That searchlight found her so cockleshell and sure, | |
Sick and tired of what she saw, | |
But cockleshell and sure. | |
Sure of what the world had offered a tired soul. | |
From Istanbul to Madrid, | |
From Reykjavik, to Bonn, | |
To Leipzig, to Leningrad, | |
To Shanghai, Pnonm Penh, | |
All so that it would be a stronger world | |
A strong though loving world to die in. |